The End of All Things
by TheOttomanEmpire
Summary: A SuperWhoLock fic. Castiel is told by God to gather a ragtag group of extraordinary people to help avert something even bigger than one planet's apocalypse. Seven strange heroes from around the Universe are brought together, and aided by the prophet Beatrice Cross to stop the inevitable. Rated T for violence, swearing, and cossroads deals.
1. Call For Help

**Chapter One**

**Call For Help**

"Damn it!" Dean hissed as he watched the shifter he'd been hunting slip back into the dark recesses of the sewer.

Sam lowered his gun, sighing heavily. "Dean, there's nothing we can do." He huffed, patting a hand over his brother's shoulder. "It's gone, and there's no way we'll find it down there. We should wait until it makes another move."

The older hunter growled. "Oh, yeah, and let it kill someone else?" He gave his brother a questioning look. "You really think I can let him go like that?"

"I'm afraid you'll have to, Dean." The rustling of feathers cause both hunters to turn around and face their feathery friend.

"What the hell, Cas?" Dean walked closer to the angel. "You _want_ me to let it go?"

Castiel shook his head. "No, I do not wish for the shifter to continue killing; but I have a far more important task from Heaven."

As Dean opened his mouth to make some smartass comment, Sam pushed his way just in front of him. "Well, what is it, Cas?"

The angel hesitated; shifting from foot to foot. "It's . . ." He shook his head. "It's the end of time."

"What- the apocalypse?" Sam asked. "I thought we stopped the end of the world."

"No," Castiel shook his head, holding up his hands in a visual display of the direness of the situation. "You don't understand. Not the end of the world . . ." He swallowed hard; a rare show of nervousness by the celestial being. "The end of everything."

* * *

"Doctor!" Amy called from the opposite side of the control unit. "What's going on? Where are we?"

"I'm not sure." The madman replied, leaning back against the railings almost nonchalantly as turbulence shook the TARDIS and everything inside it. "I don't have control over the TARDIS right now. It's like a tractor beam in one of those weird Earth movies has got it."

Amy stared at The Doctor for a moment. "_Tractor beams?_" She laughed at him. The Doctor grinned back.

"Right!" He pushed himself up off of the railings, and began to fiddle with the controls. "That's probably not it, so I'm going to try and set for a different-."

The Doctor was interrupted by a shrilly ringing alarm, ripping from somewhere in the mass of alien technology in the beloved Time-Space ship.

The bow-tied Time Lord glanced over at Amy. "Yeah, that's not good . . ." He attempted once more to change the TARDIS's course, and was met with sparks. "Well . . ." He turned towards Amy. "The TARDIS is taking us to Earth."

"What?" Amy asked. "Why Earth?"

The Doctor looked nervously between Amy and the monitor. "Because . . . Something terrible's about to happen, Amelia Pond."

* * *

The second that Sherlock had shown up, John had swung at him as hard as he could. Now Sherlock sat in one of the cushy chairs of John's flat, sporting a massive shiner, as the ex-army doctor yelled at him over and over.

"What the hell were you thinking, Sherlock!?" He shouted, face reddening. "You let all of us think you were dead for months! Do you have any idea what that did to us? Huh?"

"I-."

"No!" John spun around, arms crossed as he paced the room. "I don't want to hear excuses; I don't want to hear apologies! I want to hear one reason- _one_ reason- why I shouldn't throw you out right now and continue living on my own."

Sherlock stayed quiet for a long time; thinking of the best way to word this. "I . . ." He put his face in his hands. "You won't throw me out, because you missed me. I saw you crying; at my headstone."

John's face nearly drained of color. "You . . . You were watching?"

"Of course!" Sherlock stood up, placing both hands on John's shoulders. "You're my friend, John. I had to make sure Moriatry's men did as they were told."

"Moriarty?"

"Yes, yes, he told me that if I didn't jump, he'd shoot you all- but that's beside the point!"

John threw his arms up. "B-Beside the point!? You were dead!"

Sherlock shrugged. "Well, not really." He sighed. "I thought Moriarty might do something like that, so I asked Molly to help me, and she did. So, see?" He poked his arm. "Not dead. Anyway, I had to keep watching from a distance, because I feared that coming back from the dead would result in you lot being shot."

The shorter of the two stared quietly at Sherlock for a long time. "So . . . Why _did_ . . . Why _did_ you come back. What happened to make you change your mind; to make you take a risk like that?"

For once in his life, Sherlock didn't want to reveal one of his discoveries. He avoided answering for as long as possible, until- _finally_- he had to tell his friend. "The end of all things, my friend, is on it's way."

* * *

"Okay, seriously, Cas." Dean huffed as the angel led them inside an old barn. "What the fuck is up with you? You aren't telling us anything!"

Sam shook his head, clapping a hand against his brother's arm. "Don't worry, man. It's not like Cas' leading us into some sort of trap, or anything. Stop freaking out."

"I am not freaking out!" The older hunter swatted his brother's head. "I'm just irritated! I don't like letting things get away."

"You should stop worrying about that monster, Dean." Castiel told him; not bothering to look back. "It isn't as important as this. I am sorry, but I need your help for this."

"What is it exactly you need our help for, Cas?" Sam asked calmly, crossing his arms loosely.

Castiel stiffened more than usual, turning to face them. He only looked at them for a short time before his eyes flickered towards one of the high windows. He swallowed heavily, looking back at the boys. "You should be able to see why in approximately thirty seconds."

"What the- Cas, come on!" Dean growled impatiently. "Stop tip-toeing and tell us what the fuck is going on already!"

Sam- who had been looking out the window until then- slapped at his brother's arm. "Dean." He pushed the older hunter a little. "Dean, look."

"Cut it out, Sam!" Dean barked at him, shoving him off. "What're you freakin' out over, Sammy?" As Dean turned to look out the window as well, he had the wind knocked out of him by Castiel, who threw them both to the ground.

The second Castiel did that; the entire left side of the barn erupted into wood splinters, and a sound so impossibly loud that it could rival the angel's true voice.

Dean tried to push himself back up, but he had been trapped under a wood beam. "Cas . . ." He groaned. "Cas!"

The angel pulled his attention away from the epicenter of the wreckage; eyes widening the second he saw the hunters- nearly being crushed under the smoldering wood. He moved over to them as quickly as he could manage and lifted the wood framings off of the two. "Dean, get Sam out of here." He motioned to the semi-conscious Winchester laying on the dusty barn floor.

Dean quickly did as the angel said; gripping his own stomach tightly as he dragged Sammy out of the burning barn. The second he felt they were far enough away, the eldest Winchester hit the dirt, still clutching his badly bruised stomach as Sam began to stir more. "S-Sammy?"

Sam pushed himself slowly off of the ground, hand reaching up to hold his pounding head. "God . . . I'm alright, Dean . . ." He eyed his brother carefully. "How 'bout you? Are you alright?"

The older hunter laughed. "Yeah, I'm dandy." His expression contorted into something more serious as he stood back up- staring into the flaming barn. "I'm a lot more worried about Cas. He seemed really . . ."

"Where is he?" Sam asked, looking around.

"Still in the barn."

"Wha- Should we go back?"

Dean shook his head. "Not you." He forced his younger brother to sit back down in the dirt. "You need to stay right here and put something on your head. Your bleeding." Without another word to the younger hunter, Dean sprinted back to the barn; taking a deep breath of fresh air before pushing his way inside the burning structure. Eyes clouded by smoke, the hunter had a hard time finding the angel they'd left behind. But walking straight forward for a few seconds did the trick just fine.

"Dean?" Castiel glanced at him. "What are you doing in here? I sent you outside to wait with Sam, and I meant for you to stay there."

The hunter huffed. "Come on, Cas. You look like you're gonna need help."

The angel sighed. Dean had him there. "Fine." He lifted his angel blade, pointing to the epicenter of the flames.

Dean simply stared for a moment before pulling his gun out, aiming focusedly on the strange object before him. As the flames died down, and the two could clearly make out what the object was, Dean threw his hands up. "You have _got_ to be kidding me."

Even Castiel- oblivious angel of the Lord he was- found himself thrown a bit by the blue box that stood before them. "Dean, what is a Police Call Box, and is it dangerous?"

The Winchester shrugged. "That was awhile before my time." He admitted. "But I'm assuming it's a box where you can call the police from. Like an emergency phone booth, or something."

"Should we be fighting something?" The angel asked, growing more and more edgy by the second.

"I dunno." The hunter responded. "These things aren't supposed to be dangerous, but they aren't supposed to fly, either." He paused for a moment, thinking quietly. "Maybe I'll go take a look at i-."

"Aha!" Suddenly the doors on the box flew open, and a tall, skinny man stepped out. "Look, Amy! It _is_ Earth!"

The hunter and angel exchanged confused glances.

"So it is, Doctor." A shorter red-head with a thick Scottish accent stepped out of the box behind him. "Good thing, too. I was getting a little homesick."

The two strangers laughed at the apparent joke, still not realizing that two armed and confused men stood behind them.

"Uh, excuse me." Dean called.

Amy and The Doctor spun around, both grinning at him. "Oh, hello!" The Doctor waved.

Dean rolled his eyes. "You both human?"

The Doctor poked at Amy. "She is; I'm not. Nope."

"That's right." Amy confirmed with a nod and a smile. "He's The Doctor."

"And she's Amy Pond."

Dean kept his gun trained on the bubbly man. "Alright, in that case, we won't hurt her. What the hell are you, if you're not human?"

"He's an alien." AMy answered for him smoothly. "Time Lord from the planet Gallifrey; last of his species. Pretty nice guy, if you give him a chance."

The Doctor's head tilted. "Why would you do that? Shoot us, I mean. Has something happened that I can help with?"

"You nearly killed my brother and I with that . . . Whatever the hell it is." Dean grumbled.

"Dean?" Castiel looked over at the hunter. "This man is not our enemy."

Dean nearly dropped his gun. "What?"

"He is not our enemy."

The hunter turned fully towards Cas, lowering his gun completely. "Are you kidding me? I thought you thought they were hostile just a second ago!"

"I did." Castiel nodded. "I may be a celestial being, Dean, but that doesn't mean I'm incapable of changing my mind."

"Guys!"

All eyes turned to the front of the barn where Sam was standing with two other people. "We have a problem."

* * *

"Okay, I'm sorry; Gallifrey?" Sam questioned, staring oddly at the madman who called himself The Doctor.

The Doctor nodded. "That's right! Born and raised there; sort of. It's kind of a long, weird, timey-wimey story."

Dean gave The Doctor the oddest look he had. "Timey-wimey? How the hell old are you?"

"Nine-hundred and some-odd years." The Doctor responded. "Now, I know a bit about you two- the brothers who hunt monsters. Even to a Time Lord, you are intriguing; though I've never cared much to meet you in person until now." He moved over to the newest arrivals who were standing near the angel. "I'm curious about you two." He pointed a finger at both Castiel and Sherlock.

"Sherlock Holmes." The handsome Brit with the impressive back-eye extended a gloved hand to shake. "I'm a consulting detective in London."

"Or, at least he was," The man standing next to him commented. "If he wasn't considered dead."

"I told you, John, Lestrade is fixing it for me now. It'll be like I never jumped; okay?"

John Watson huffed in a way only a true woman could.

"Suddenly," The Doctor said, tilting his head oddly, "I don't really want to know that much." He skipped a step to one side, smiling at Castiel. "And who are you? What's your life story?"

Dean popped his head in between the two. "Trust me, Doctor- you don't want to ask the 'life story' part. You'll be standing here 'til next month, and that isn't an exaggeration."

Castiel shrugged a bit. "That may be true. I have had a long life, Dean."

"Oh yeah?" The Doctor challenged, eyes bright. "Try me, Castiel."

The trenchcoat-clad man tilted his head, thinking. "I have forgotten exactly, but I'm sure it has been at least three thousand years since I was created."

The Doctor made and impressed whistle. "Yep, can't top that." He straightened out. "So, what are you? Something like me, or just a really, really, really old human?"

Castiel stared at The Doctor for a moment. "I am an angel of the Lord, Doctor."

The group fell silent for a moment while Dean and Sam sighed heavily. "That's impossible." John dismissed Castiel completely. "Angels don't exist."

"Oh, but extraterrestrials do, John?" Sherlock asked, motioning towards The Doctor. "I don't think it's that far-fetched at all."

John shook his head angrily at Sherlock. "Oh, so you pretend to die, and then you come back to me believing in angels and all that nonsense? Please! Your 'death' killed that belief for me."

Sherlock crossed his arms. "My 'death' is what made me believe John. You remembered what I told you on our way over, don't you? How can I not believe that?"

"Doctor." Amy grabbed at The Doctor's sleeve. Only then did the others realize that The Doctor had taken out a weapon. "Doctor, he doesn't look like one of them at all. I think he's okay."

The Doctor shook his head. "No, Amy. You can't ever trust the Angels. They'll always want nothing more than to kill you in the end."

"Kill you?" Dean laughed. "Man, put the thing down, Doctor. Cas wouldn't hurt an innocent man. He's harmless when it comes to humans."

"That isn't true, Dean." Castiel replied. "I could hurt a person if I felt the need to."

"Do you feel the need to?"

"No."

"Okay, then." Dean smiled. "We're good." He turned to face the Doctor, who was slowly lowering his weapon. "Why would you think that Cas would want to kill you and Amy, Doctor? What have the angels ever done to you?"

The Doctor shook his head. "I've never met a _real_ angel before today." He glanced at Amy. "We're used to dealing with the Weeping Angels. Creatures that turn to stone whenever you look at them. But when you blink . . ."

"Th-They're fast." Amy whimpered. "Fast, and terrifying, and they'll kill you by dragging you back in time, and forcing you to die the day they took you."

"Well," Sam muttered. "Glad we never met any of those."

"_No_, Sammy, all we have to deal with are werewolves, vamps, vengeful spirits, _djinn_ for example- those were _fun_."

"Don't be an ass, Dean." The younger hunter told his brother, punching his arm. "Don't you think that some people might not have been raised the same as us?"

Dean huffed. "So? That's no reason not to be able to listen to us talk about it-!"

"Enough!" Castiel- Angel of the Lord- commanded with an intensity that proved his title. "I need to explain to you why you were all gathered."

"Wait, so _you_ brought us here?" Amy asked.

Castiel shook his head. "No. God did that."

"I don't believe in a God." The Doctor replied.

"Whether you do or not, I'm sure you care about this planet, and the well-being of those on it."

"What if we said we didn't?" The Doctor challenged hypothetically. "We could go anywhere, and not die along with the Earth."

Castiel tilted his head. "Well I'm sure that you've already come to understand his, Doctor, but it isn't just Earth. The end of all things is growing closer and closer."

* * *

**Please don't hate me for this! I just wanted to try something new, and this popped into my head, and I was like; "WAH!"; and then I wrote it. : P**


	2. Angel's Wings

**Barachiel is the Angel of Saturday, and one of the Seven Archangels mentioned in Eastern Orthodox tradition. Also regarded as the Angel of Lightning~.**

**Chapter Two**

**Angel's Wings**

The consulting-detective and his skeptical partner stayed silent through the supposed angel's vague description of the supposedly oncoming doomsday.

"I'm not sure how much I can tell you," Castiel admitted, looking at his feet. "But I know that there is a girl who can help us that lives somewhere in Abington, England."

"Who is she?" Sam asked. "How can she help us."

"Her name is Beatrice Cross, and she's a prophet." The angel paused. "The one who originally predicted the End. When we were able to prove that the End was indeed set to occur, my brothers and I began to pay much more attention to her."

John shook his head. "A _prophet_? Like, the ones who talk to God?"

"Not specifically to God." Sam corrected. "They usually have an angel talking through them."

"Yes." Castiel confirmed with a nod. "The angel she has contact with is an angel named Barachiel."

"Barachiel?" Dean narrowed his eyes. "This guy important at all?"

The angel looked like he wanted to roll his eyes at Dean, but wasn't sure how that worked. "Well, he's one of the Seven Archangels. He's more popular in Eastern Orthodox and Catholic traditions, but he's quite powerful."

The younger hunter crossed his arms. "Barachiel was known for something, right? He was the angel of, uh . . . Lightning, right?"

"That's right, Sam." Castiel nodded. "But I wouldn't think of him as incredibly dangerous. He was also known as the Angel of blessings."

"Just how many things was this guy known for?" Amy Pond shook her head, laughing. "He must have been quite the character."

"Actually, he's quite kind." Castiel said seriously. "You'll all probably meet him when we reach the prophet's home."

"We should probably start heading there, now." John pointed out. "It took Sherlock and I hours to fly here, and getting a plane ticket for all of us won't be cheap."

Castiel shook his head. "That won't be necessary. I believe it would be best if I flew us all myself."

"Wh- No!" The consulting-detective's partner protested. "I'm not letting some maniac who thinks he's an angel try to fly us off a cliff!"

"Not that I agree with him or anything," The Doctor spoke up, poking his head out from behind Amy. "But I do have the TARDIS."

"Oh yeah," Amy scoffed, showing The Doctor the bruise on her forearm. "The TARDIS is _so much_ safer."

"That wasn't her fault!" The bow-tied man protested, appalled at the thought of his ship hurting Amy. "It was all the turbulence, or you were holding onto the railings too tightly!"

The redhead laughed. "I know, Doctor. I'm messing with you." She turned back towards John. "But the TARDIS might feel safer to you. You should ride in there with us, as long as you're okay with being a few decades off."

As the two time-travellers continued to argue, John began to drag Sherlock towards the ship; holding the detective by his much-loved scarf.

"Guess we should start going, then?" Dean asked.

"Yes." Castiel agreed. "I'll go give the exact coordinates to The Doctor."

Both Sam and Dean watched as the angel strode towards the incredibly blue ship. "Well," Dean sighed, leaning up against what used to be one of the wooden support beams of the now completely decimated barn. "Shit."

* * *

The entire group arrived on a small street less than a minute later, the angel and those brave enough to fly with him watching as the TARDIS materialized against the sinking sun, which seemed to be drowning in the thick fog that hung just beneath it. Cas led the way up the stony driveway of a house that seemed more disconnected than the others, and knocked lightly on the door.

A few moments later, the sound of locks clicking echoed through the door, and a small woman pushed the door open- a bright smile blinding the gloominess that hung over the group. "Hello. Is there something I can help you with?"

"Beatrice, you remember me, don't you?" The angel asked. "Castiel. The angel that came to speak with you two days ago."

The girl's head tilted in confusion for a moment before she seemed to remember the trench coat-wearing angel. "Oh! Of course! Sorry, my memory's been a bit foggy for the past few years." She opened up the door. "Why don't you and your friends come in? I can get some tea going."

Before Castiel could respond, Beatrice retreated back into the house, leaving the door slightly ajar. "Just make sure to lock everything again!" She called from further in."

The angel looked at Dean and Sam for help; not quite knowing how to deal with people who didn't dislike him other than the Winchesters. The brothers shrugged in unison, both walking inside, followed by the herd-like mass of their group.

"Right." The young prophet said, leaning up against the kitchen counter. "What is it you need from me, Castiel?"

Cas cleared his throat before speaking. "We, um, we came to clarify a bit about the information you gave us regarding the End."

Beatrice looked shocked, eyes widening. "Oh . . . Um . . ." She drummed her fingers against the granite. _Tap-tap-tap-tap_. "I, uh . . . Listen, I know it's important, but can't you just ask Barachiel himself? I don't want to have any more nightmares."

"You know, it usually doesn't work that way." Dean walked over to her, hands in his pockets. "If you stop talking about it, you won't stop having bad dreams, or headaches, or anything. You're a prophet. You have direct contact with Heaven, and we need whatever information you can give us."

" . . . O . . . Okay . . ." She let out a shuddering breath. "I think I could get Bara to tell me something."

"Bara?"

Beatrice smiled. "Oh, yeah. That's my nickname for him." She continued to drum against the counter. _Tap-tap-tap-tap_. "A lot easier than calling him 'Barachiel' every time I need to talk to him." _Tap-tap-tap-tap_.

"What's that?" The Doctor asked, instantly alert. "That tapping, what is it?"

"Hmm?" The prophet stopped tapping, tilting her head at the Time Lord. "What tapping?"

" . . . Nothing, it was . . ." The Doctor shook his head, confused. "Probably nothing . . ."

"Either way," Castiel began, fiddling with his hands. "What can you tell us about the End?"

The prophet pushed herself off of the counter. "Hold on. I'm sure that Barachiel explaining this to you would be much better than myself, so I'm going to let him use me as a vessel- for _ten minutes_." She seemed to be threatening the air more than something existing. "Any longer, and I'll make one of these guys send your ass back to Heaven, got it?" She paused for a moment. "Good."

Without any warning, electricity danced across the room; the scent of ozone becoming thick in the air. Beatrice's body seemed to go limp as she let out a- literally- shocked gasp. She hit the group with a loud **_thump_**; six of the other occupants of the room jumping back with equal amounts of surprise.

As suddenly as the electricity had begun clinging to the walls, it stopped; smoke rising from Beatrice's body as she lifted herself up from the ground.

The group stared in awe as something otherworldly cracked the joints in the prophet's body testingly. The electric-gold eyes of the Archangel occupying the young girl's body flicked over towards Castiel. "Oh." A smooth, literally angelic voice filled the ears in the room. "Hello there, brother."


	3. The Angel of Saturday

**This is assuming that Bobby is still alive**

**Chapter Three**

**Angel of Saturday**

There was a short silence in the room upon the arrival of the angel. His eyes still glowed behind the prophet's own; burning into Castiel as he spoke. "Hello, brother."

"Barachiel." The other angel bowed his head in greeting. "It's been a long time."

"Yes, indeed it has." Barachiel leaned back against the counter; arms crossed behind Beatrice's head. "What is it you need? Something about my prophecy?"

Cas nodded. "Yes, we wanted to know what you can tell us about the End. You weren't very specific, and the prophet couldn't tell us much."

"Uh-huh." The angel uncrossed his arms, and walked forward- into the center of the living room. "Well, I hate to burst your bubbles, but I'm not the one who predicted _everything_. I don't know all that's set to occur, but I'll do my best."

"Anything is good at this point, I think." Amy said from the couch. "It's not like we know anything. We're in the dark, beside the fact that everything's supposed to end."

Barachiel nodded. "Right . . . Well, okay. The exact date is supposed to be November 15th."

"That's only a week from now." Dean pointed out. "Can we stop this thing in a week?"

The Angel of Saturday sighed. "The thing is, Winchester, I'm not even sure that this _can_ be stopped. This is a lot bigger than just the apocalypse of Earth." He spread his vessel's hands wide. "This is the end of _everything_. I don't see how that can be avoided."

The Doctor smiled. "I'm sure we'll manage. I've saved quite a few places in the past."

"Oh, yes." Barachiel grinned. "The Doctor; the protector of anything he comes across. You, Doctor, are impressive; even by my standards. You've kept this planet safe about as often as the Winchesters. I commend you, and anyone who decides to help you."

"Haha! Look at that, Pond!" The Doctor cheered. "I have a fan!"

"You have a celestial fanboy." Amy corrected, smiling brightly at the old Time Lord.

"Right," Sam rolled his eyes. "We've got about seven minutes left for Barachiel to explain everything he can, so let's get back on subject."

"Oh, yeah." The angel grinned. "So, the only other thing I know is something that someone else told me. I was told that you all had to be gathered. It _has_ to be the seven of you." He looked towards Sherlock and his companion. "That's why I came to you. I needed you to bring your partner with you. And that's why I redirected your ship's course, Doctor. And Castiel came of his own regards, and I had Bea tell him where to take the Winchesters."

"Wait, so, you heard an angel talk?" Sam asked the detective. "And your brain didn't explode?"

"Sherlock Holmes' brain runs at a much higher level than most people's do." Barachiel explained. "He is one of very few people who can perceive the true voice of a being like one of us. It is truly impressive."

"I think in most people's opinions," John said with a warm smile. "That makes you even more of a genius."

Sherlock smirked at him. "Of course, but you already knew that."

Barachiel sighed. "Yeah, but I'm afraid that's everything I know about the End. Or, I guess there is one more thing. Doesn't seem very important, though . . ."

"What is it?" Dean asked, folding his arms over his chest lazily.

The angel turned to look at him, pausing before he went on. "Well, it's a little weird who I got the main points in this information from."

Castiel narrowed his eyes. "Who told you about this?"

Barachiel looked up at his brother, brows furrowed in his mental debate. "I heard the voice of Gabriel telling me all of this."

"Gabe?" Both of the Winchesters looked shocked.

Amy looked around at the other faces in the room confusedly. "Who, like the archangel, Gabriel?"

"Yeah." Barachiel nodded. "The only issue with that is that he died about three years ago. It can't be him, unless Dad finally decided to raise him from the dead."

"Wait, but, how is that possible?" Amy asked. "How do you kill an archangel?"

Barachiel frowned. "You have to use one of these." He turned around; opening up a drawer and producing a long, thin silver blade. "That's a angel blade. It can kill angels, demons, hellhounds- hell, I think you could kill just about anything with it."

"Not anything." Castiel corrected. "But you could kill an angel, and that is the important part."

"Right." Barachiel nodded. "Almost every angel carries one. Just for their own protection, ya' know?"

Amy nodded, pulling her legs in close as she pressed herself further into the excessively cushioned couch.

Barachiel sighed. "Well, my time's just about up. I'm gonna let Bea back in. Sweet girl, Beatrice, but she has a _nasty_ temper."

* * *

Bea sat down at her kitchen table heavily; forehead resting against the cool, smooth wood. "God, I hate letting him drive. It gives me _such_ a headache." She lifted her head, smiling at the group. "So, was he able to help you at all?"

"Yeah," Dean replied. "I'd say we got some good information out of this."

The prophet smiled. "Good. I'm glad you lot aren't walking away empty-handed." She leaned back in her chair. "Anything else you guys need? You're welcome to stay for lunch if you want to."

Sherlock stood up. "I think we should actually go, now." He said, speaking for the group. "It would be best to solve this as soon as possible."

"He's right." Sam walked over to shake the prophet's hand, handing her a card with hi number. "Thanks a lot for helping us. Call us if you think you can help any more."

"Oh, that's alright." She handed the card back. "If I find out anything more, I'll just call for Castiel. I don't actually own a phone."

"Oh . . . Uh, right."

The Doctor stood up. "Alrighty, then. Are we leaving now?"

"Yes." Castiel began to walk towards the door. "Thank you for your time. We'll . . . try to keep in touch."

The group all separately gave their thanks to Beatrice as they headed out the door. Once they were all outside, the group huddled around the end of the drive.

"What do you think, Cas?" Sam asked. "Could Gabe actually have a part in this?"

Amy shook her head. "No, there's no way. People don't just come back from the dead."

"That's true with most cases, but Gabriel is an archangel." Sherlock spoke distractedly. "He's important enough to be brought back if he's needed."

"Yeah." Dean agreed. "We've seen that happen with people as well as angels."

Sam nodded. "It isn't as uncommon with us as it should be."

"Are you okay?" Amy's question brought the focus to The Doctor's worried mannerism.

The Time Lord looked up at her, pausing before nodding vigorously. "Yeah, yeah, I'm . . . I'm okay . . ." At the suspicious look from his companion, he let out a sigh. "It's nothing, just . . . The beat she was tapping out earlier . . . It reminded me of something . . . From a long time ago . . . But I don't think it matters now. It can't."

Castiel hesitated. "Are you sure it isn't important."

The Doctor nodded. "I'm certain."

"Right." Sherlock muttered. "We should figure out where to go from here."

"I have an idea." Dean said, crossing his arms. "We should go talk to Bobby."


	4. Sarah

**Chapter Four**

**Sarah**

There was a loud bang as a tall man wearing a nice suit slammed his hand against the wall. "This still isn't right!" He shouted, glaring at the dark-haired girl that lounged in her chair. "There's something we're missing! It's bothering me!"

"Calm down, Suit." The girl hissed- red eyes narrowing as she smirked at him. "We haven't missed anything. Everything's going as smoothly as I promised it would."

"You don't know that yet. We don't know if everything's going to work out." The man seemed distracted, rubbing his forehead in frustration.

The girl growled, pushing herself up from the chair and walking over to him. "I told you to calm down. Look, I can promise you right now. I've already taken certain precautionary measures." She smiled. "A few of mine are on their way to Bobby Singer's place right now."

"Singer?" The man looked up, confused. "Why do we care about a Bobby Singer?"

The dark-haired girl grinned. "You'll see, sweetie."

* * *

The Winchesters were both smiling when they got to the old auto shop. "Come on, guys." Dean called back to the others. "Bobby can help us out. He always knows somethin' more than we do."

The Doctor raised his hand awkwardly. "Uh, sorry, but who is Bobby, and why is he important to us right now?"

"Bobby Singer's kind of like an uncle to us." Sam replied, talking with his hands. "He's been there for us, pretty much all our lives. An old hunting friend of our dad's."

"And by old," Dean paused with a whistle. "We mean _old_." He was instantly elbowed in the ribs by his little brother. "Ow! Quit it, Sammy!"

Castiel sighed. "I think it would be best if you both sto-." The angel stopped short, clamping his mouth shut, and looking around him like a cornered rat. "Dean . . . Sam . . ." He pulled his angel blade from his sleeve. "Be ready . . ."

Both Sam and Dean drew guns, instantly dropping everything else.

On instinct, John drew his own pistol as well, dropping into a standard defensive position. "What's happening? Sherlock?"

The detective shook his head. "I don't know." He turned towards Castiel. "You know what this is, don't you?"

The angel nodded, tense and focused.

Sherlock had to admit that he looked more like a scared animal than an angelic being.

". . . Demons." Castiel spoke so quietly- so cautiously- that it startled the half of the group that wasn't armed.

"They still here, Cas?" Dean asked, not looking up from where his gun was trained.

The angel slowly shook his head. "No . . . No, I don't think so . . ." He looked up at Dean. "But we should keep our weapons out. You as well." He nodded towards John.

The Winchesters nodded towards each other, Dean walking ahead and motioning for Sam to go around the back. The rest followed him forward, despite the brothers and John waving them back. Dean walked up to the door and knocked. A worried look took over his face when the door fell open.

"Bobby?" He called. "Bobby . . .? You in here?" He walked in through the door, eyes widening at the unorganized messiness of the house. "Jesus, this place is worse than usual."

"Well . . ." The angel shrugged a bit."

Dean turned around; his brother's classic bitch-face at the ready. "Really, Cas? That need to be said?"

The angel looked at his feet awkwardly. "Sorry."

The hunter rolled his eyes as he began to search the house again. He walked into the kitchen, the living room, and even checked upstairs- but he couldn't find anything. "What the hell is going on here?"

"Dean." Castiel called as the hunter jogged back down the stairs. " Come look at this." He held a letter out to him.

The second Dean saw the letter left behind, all hope of Bobby being just fine crashed and burned. He decided to read it out loud.

"Dear Dean and Sam Winchester,

Don't worry at all about Bobby Singer. We aren't going to hurt him. Kidnapping him was just insurance; just to make sure that you wouldn't get too close to us. This is your first warning. Stay away from the prophet Beatrice Cross, or we'll take someone else.

With Love,

Sarah"

Castiel nearly hissed when Dean said the demon's name. "Sarah is a demon from a long, long time ago- started as a witch who sold her soul to a very powerful demon. She was exorcised, and sent back to Hell a century ago." He clenched his fists tightly. "She killed quite a few of my siblings. We tried our best to get rid of her, but all we could do was send her away."

"Well, that means we have a _very_ badass demon holding our friend captive." Dean spat. He sighed, resting his hand on his head. "I don't know how much more of this I can take."

"It's okay." Amy promised him, putting a hand on his back. "The Doctor and I can help get him back."

John nodded. "Right, and I have a super-genius here who can help you find your friend. I'm sure Sherlock's willing to help, aren't you?"

The detective nodded, smirking. "Absolutely."

"Right." Sam grunted, walking closer to the rest of the group. "Well, I'm sure we'll find him. I really don't want to lose anyone else."

Castiel nodded. "What do you propose we do next, Dean?" He asked the hunter; eyes narrowed in inquiry.

The blonde mulled it over for a second, biting his lip. "Well, the letter said to stay away from Bea. So that must be where they're going next."

"Or it's a trap." The Doctor pointed out. He sounded genuinely worried, gathering all the attention. "Maybe they want a specific one of us, and they can only get us by luring us there, separating us, and taking who they need. That's what I would do- probably."

Amy shook her head. "I don't think so, Doctor." She smiled. "But if it would make you feel better, we could split up. The strongest of us go to that girl's house again, and the rest stay here."

"Why would that make me feel better, Amelia?" The Time Lord asked, staring at her oddly. "I mean, didn't I _just say_ that they would try to split us up?" He ran a hand through his floppy hair frustratedly.

The companion shrugged. "Well, _I_ think it's a good idea."

Castiel shifted in his trenchcoat. "Are we sure that's wisest?"

"Here, how about this;" John said, lowering his pistol only slightly. "We'll split up like Amy said. One group- Amy, The Doctor, Castiel, and myself- goes to help that girl, and the other group- Sam, Dean, and Sherlock- go to track down that demon."

Dean and Sam looked at each other before shrugging in unison. "I'd say the groups are split pretty evenly." The older hunter commented.

"Alright," The angel's gravelly voice held a commanding, decisive tone. "That is how the group will split, then. We should leave as soon as possible." He turned towards to old Time Lord. "You and Amy should bring your ship as soon as I leave." Without another word, he put two fingers to John Watson's forehead, and the two vanished with the sound of rustling feathers.

The Doctor sighed. "Alright, Amy, we should get going." He began to walk swiftly out of the house and through the car lot towards the TARDIS. He climbed inside; smiling at the familiar sight, scent, and feel of the old ship.

Amy was just climbing inside as The Doctor finished punching the time and location into the center console. She smiled at him as he worked quietly. "Are you sure you're not worrying too much, Doctor."

The Time Lord looked up at Amy with a neutral expression for a moment before forcing a smile. "That's probably it." He said smoothly as the TARDIS began to move. "I've been around danger for such a long time, I suppose everything's beginning to feel like a trap."

The second the time machine landed, The Doctor tore out through the doors- sprinting to catch up to the angel and John. The two that had first arrived talked in low voices before John waved at the Time Lord and his companion to stay back.

"What's happening?" Amy asked in a whisper as she ran up to her Doctor; slightly crouching.

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm not sure," He admitted. "But I suppose it must have something to do with that girl."

Amy shook her head in slight disbelief. "Maybe we were too late."

"Or maybe I was right." The Time Lord replied reproachfully as John waved them over. "I'm not sure I want you to go up there with us, Amelia."

The redhead almost laughed at him. "Oh, and you think you can stop me? Come on." She gripped the old man's arm tightly and ran towards the door.

They had hardly made it inside when The Doctor felt another set of arms wrapping around him; a hand covering his mouth as he was pulled away from Amy. Panic filled his chest as he tried to pull out of the tight grip. His eyes widened when he saw the badly beaten form of Castiel on the ground. John was nowhere to be seen.

The Time Lord struggled as hard as he could and pulled away from the person holding him back; just enough to shift the hand away from his mouth. "A-Amy!"

The redhead turned around- shock widening her eyes at the sight of her friend being attacked.

The Doctor fought and pulled to get away as men came out of the darkness of the house; moving quickly to grab his companion by her arms. But the more the Time Lord fought, the more violent his attacker grew. A heavy punch to the ribs had The Doctor nearly on his knees; but the one hand not on his throat anymore gave him a chance to run towards Amy.

His attacker hit him harshly against the back of his head with something heavy, and the Time Lord hit the ground- but he was far from done. He clambered to his feet unsteadily; limping towards where Amy was.

The attacker was having none of it. "Stubborn old fool." The voice hit The Doctor's ears only seconds before another sharp pain met his back, and the Time Lord saw black.

* * *

The Winchesters walked in an uncomfortable silence with the super-genius through the woods. Sherlock had run a few tests, and in only half an hour he'd come up with the most likely spot for the former witch to be hiding. It sounded like a good idea to start with, so Dean drove as far as he could, and they walked the rest of the way.

"How much further do you think?" Sam asked, looking back at Sherlock.

The genius shrugged. "I suppose a mile or so."

"Right." Dean commented. "You two should check again to make sure you have all of your weapons. We want to be ready for whatever comes at us."

"Well, I'm certain you weren't ready for this." A woman's voice hissed from behind them.

The eldest hunter sighed. "Damn it." He turned around; holding his gun up.

"Go ahead." A tall girl with jet-black hair and red eyes grinned at him; pulling Sam up in front of her with one arm. "Fire away, Winchester."

Dean looked at the empty space next to him to confirm that it was indeed Sammy she was holding. "Shit." Muttering more profanities under his breath; he slowly began to lower his weapon.

The tall girl smirked evilly. "Good dog." Her eyes flicked to glare directly at Sherlock. "Don't even _think_ about shooting me with _salt rounds_, pathetic little detective. I'm stronger than most.

"Weird." Dean commented. "The only other demon I've ever seen with eyes that weren't black was Azazel." He smiled; mockingly sweet. "Does that make you special?"

The girl hissed; pushing Sam forward a bit. "Don't you dare compare me to _Azazel_. He was pathetic; and he didn't deserve to be the one to help raise Lucifer!" She stopped herself, straightening back up, and tossing Sam to another demon who walked out from behind one of the trees. "You think you're so funny, don't you?"

The hunter pushed his lower lip out, shrugging and nodding. "I like to think so." He grinned at her.

The grin was wiped away in less than a second as the girl got close to Dean's face. "Well, you'd be right." Her rotten breath caused Dean's nose to wrinkle. "I am more special than your typical demon."

"And what makes you special?" Sherlock asked. "Why are you more important than other demons?"

The demon smiled. "Oh, sorry. I guess Cassy didn't describe me really well, did he? I'm Sarah." Seemingly without reason, she tossed Dean back; causing him to drop all his weapons, and hit a tree- hard. "And you're both _really_ unlucky." She slunk towards Sherlock calculatingly; swiping a fist across his face and knocking him to the ground.

As Sherlock hit the ground, he saw Sarah crouching down next to his head. "You aren't putting up much of a fight." She commented. "Good for Johnny-boy, but not so good for you."

"What have you done to John?" The detective demanded.

Instead of answering, the she-demon slammed her fost into his head- knocking him out cold. She sighed- strolling through the woods towards the hacking, sputtering older Winchester. "Good night, Dean." She said with a smile; swinging her foot into his face.

* * *

**Well, I'm sorry to say it; but I'll be going on vacation for awhile- it being Summer and all- so I won't be able to update for at least the next five days. Really sorry to those of you who are enjoying this.**

**Thanks for reading! Read and review if you want! I'll miss you all during this five to seven day period!**

**Otto-Chan.**


	5. Something More

**Chapter Five**

**Something More**

The Time Lord groaned as he woke up; pain still radiating through his skull. He slowly sat up, trying his best to ignore the pain, and looked around the room. "A-Amy?" He asked. "Amelia?"

The Doctor climbed to his feet- stumbling and leaning against a wall. He couldn't see Amy or John in the small house.

"Doctor." A gravelly voice called from the kitchen.

The old man followed the voice, and his eyes narrowed in confusion when he saw Castiel- angel of the Lord- standing on the linoleum; circle of fire burning strongly around him. "What happened to you?" The Doctor asked, noting the blood caking over his clothes, and the large cuts and bruises marking his face and arms.

"The same thing that happened to you," The angel told him, pointing a finger at The Doctor's bruised face. "And what I'm assuming also happened to the others."

The alien growled angrily. "Well, I don't know what happened!" He shouted. "I know I got the bloody hell beaten out of me! I know the same thing happened to you! But do you have any idea what happened to Amelia? To John?"

The angel shook his head. "Doctor, you need to calm down. Your injury is very serious."

"Well, you're an angel, aren't you? Heal me!" A few seconds after having said that, The Doctor noticed something else. "Why haven't you healed yourself yet? Are you too hurt?"

"It's the fire." Castiel remarked with an annoyed look at the lapping tongues of flame. "It's holy fire. If an angel crosses it or touches it, they die instantly. I'm stuck in here, and it's . . . severely draining me."

The Doctor stared at the flickering fire for a moment. "How do I put it out?" He asked, leaning in to examine the fire closer.

"The same way you would put out a normal fire." Castiel said, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world- which, in truth, was nearly true.

"Oh." Was the only thing the Time Lord had to say on the matter before dashing towards the sink. He laughed to himself when he saw that the faucet had a hose-like head. He pulled it from its little holder and turned on the spray- shooting water at the little ring of fire until enough of it was out for Castiel to leave it.

Without so much as another word, Castiel placed two conjoined fingers against The Doctor's forehead.

The Time Lord felt a slight tugging in his stomach as the cuts on his face closed, and bruised skin healed over. "Thanks . . ." He watched- slightly in awe- as the angel proceeded to heal himself.

"Right." The angel nodded, looking rather like the soldier he was as he looked around the house seriously. "We should find Dean and the others. Maybe they had better . . . luck . . ." Cas ended the sentence awkwardly. A confused expression appeared on his face before being replaced with a look of fear.

The Doctor narrowed his eyes in concern. "What is it?"

"Dean is praying to me." Castiel muttered. "We need to go."

The Doctor shook his head- overwhelmed. "What's happened now?"

"They found Sarah."

* * *

Sherlock was up long before Dean was. Well, not _up_ up, but he was awake. Every so often he would yell at the hunter- unable to stand up and walk over to him on his own- but Dean was out cold.

Of course, he should have been. There was a cut across his forehead from where that demon had stomped on him, and- aside from that- some deep-looking gashes across his face and back. Bruises lined every visible area on his skin, and his nose was bent awkwardly. He looked so beat up that it was hard for the detective to look at him.

Sherlock groaned in pain as he tried to sit up. He carefully, cautiously began to drag himself over to lean against the nearest tree. He pulled himself up- gasping and blinking as his head spun- and leaned with his back against the rough bark, letting his head loll miserably. The dark-haired Brit looked down at the American. What was he going to do- now that the only person who could help him was severely injured?

Suddenly, and without any warning, Dean sat straight up- albeit followed by a loud groan of mixed pain and annoyance. He looked around the thickly wooded area, and flew onto his feet. Scooping his gun off of the ground and crouching into a defensive position, he scanned the area. "Holmes? You there, brainiac?"

The detective put up a hand, leaning slightly more into Dean's line of fire. "Right here." He called, pushing off of the tree and stumbling a bit. "The enemy have long gone. You can put that away."

"Right . . ." The hunter slowly put his weapon out of sight. "Any sign of Sammy, or did that demon-bitch take him?"

Sherlock shrugged. "I only just regained consciousness minutes ago." He admitted. "I honestly don't know what happened to your brother."

Dean huffed heavily, cursing and kicking a tree. "Fine." He looked up towards the sky and spread his arms mockingly. "Oh, Castiel, if thou feathery ass isn't stuck in some trap, or beaten to a bloody angel-pulp, then get yourself over here now. We have a bit of a situation on our hands."

Only seconds later, the sound of rustling feathers accompanied by the strange sound of the TARDIS filled the woodland air. "Dean, what happened?" The gravelly voice of the angel made Sherlock jump. "Where's Sam?"

"Sarah showed up." The hunter said grimly as The Doctor hopped out of his time machine. "We think she took Sam, but we were both out cold. There's no way we can be sure."

"Yes there is." Sherlock pointed out. "If we find Sarah, we find Sam- either that, or he's dead."

Castiel nodded. "We can only hope that isn't the case."

Everyone was quiet for a moment- each trying to formulate their own plan- before Sherlock noticed something. "Where's John?" He asked. "Isn't he with you?"

The angel and the Time Lord looked at each other for a moment before looking away; guilt scrawled across their downcast faces.

"The . . . same demons that attacked you also came after us." Castiel said, looking at Sherlock helplessly. "There was nothing we could do."

"Amy was taken, too." The Doctor offered up; as if that would make Sherlock either feel any better or worse.

Unfortunately, the detective couldn't have cared any less about the poor Scottish girl in that instant. He was too upset about John being taken by that horrible creature; and about the awful things that she was capable of doing to him. "She . . . She said something about . . . She said that I wasn't fighting back, and that it wasn't good for me, but that it might be better for John." He looked up at the hunter and the angel. "Was she telling the truth?"

"Most likely." Castiel nodded. "Sarah is very calculating. She'll keep John in perfect health unless you do something she doesn't like."

"Right, so, we back off?" The detective asked. "I don't think I can do that. I need to help John."

"Don't worry." The Doctor assured. "I won't let anything happen to any of them if I can help it."

Dean shook his head. "Yeah, and what are you going to do to stop it? You come from a completely different world. You don't know how monsters work." He laughed. "Hell, you don't even know how _humans_ work, do you?"

Sherlock narrowed his eyes. "Different world . . .?" He repeated slowly.

The old alien shook his head. "That doesn't matter." He backfired. "I've faced enough evil throughout this entire universe- _including on Earth_- to have a good idea of what's going on here. I _can _and _will_ stop this!"

"Wait!" Sherlock threw his hands between the two as they squared up at each other. "Doesn't anyone else find it odd that we all know someone else in this group, but not everyone? I mean, not that, but the fact that three separate groups were brought together to form one, and a person from each group was taken?"

Castiel tilted his head. "Are you suggesting that Sarah and her horde took a member of each separate group on purpose?"

"Yes, yes! Don't you see?" The detective asked excitedly. "She's a clever girl! She's trying to get us to fight amongst each other! She wants us to tear each other apart for her- save her doing the dirty work!"

The hunter crossed his arms, stepping back from The Doctor- both nodding silent apologies at the other. "So, what do you think we should do?"

Sherlock stayed quiet for a second, arms still outstretched from the discovery. As his arms fell to his sides once more, he nodded to himself. "We do exactly the opposite as she wants." He smiled- and anyone would have mistaken him for Lucifer himself by that smile alone. "She doesn't show it, but what I saw when she attacked us confirms it in my mind. She wants to be in on the action. We bring the war to her."

"Wait," Dean held up a hand. "If she wants to be in the fight herself, why doesn't she just start an all-out war?"

The woods fell silent again; not even a bird tweeting in the dead sky. Suddenly, something clicked for The Doctor, and a worried look washed over his face. "Someone else is telling her not to join the fight." He looked around at the other sullen faces. "That must be it! it has to be, hasn't it?"

"He's right." Castiel said with a sigh. "The only reason that a demon as violent as Sarah would choose not to attack us on her own would be because someone else is there giving the orders."

"So, we find out who's giving the orders, and kill this thing at it's source, right?" Dean asked, furrowing his eyebrows at the complexity of the situation.

Sherlock shrugged. "That's usually what I would suggest," He told him; sounding annoyed. "but I really don't think it's going to be that easy. They're bound to have some way of hiding the demon actually giving the orders."

The Time Lord shook his head. "But, then . . . You're suggesting that this person has to be a demon."

"You're saying it's not?" Dean asked. "What else would it be?"

"I . . . I don't know, but that sound that I heard earlier . . ."

"You mean those tapping sounds that bothered you so much back at Beatrice's house?" Sherlock asked with a puzzled expression. "What about it? I thought you said it wasn't important?"

The Doctor shrugged. "I'm . . . I'm not too sure anymore." He admitted. "The impossible has happened before, and I suppose it could happen again, but . . . I really don't want that."

The detective sighed. "Well, whatever it is, I'm sure we'll be able to handle it. But the best thing we can do now is continue towards our original destination."

Having silently agreed that this was indeed their best option, the group began to head out towards the warehouse once more.

* * *

"He's smart, that one." Sarah said with a light laugh. "The _Doctor_. What's so important about him, anyway?"

"Old friend." Her suit-clad companion smiled a bit.

Sarah smirked. "Right. Well, let me know when we're ready to make our next move, sweet-pea." She stood up, wrapping her coat around herself. "I'm going downstairs to have a chat with that Amy girl, again."

The man, grinned- still enthralled by the four tiny figures that walked around on the little holographic map he'd brought up. "Maybe she'll break this time."

The red-eyed demon picked up a set of keys, walking towards the door. "My thoughts exactly."

* * *

**Right, so, I know I said I'd be on vacation, but my hotel has wifi for today! So I decided to be nice, and update a bit for those of you reading this! Thanks so much, guys! Read and review, and be nice, if you want!**


	6. The Man in the Suit

**Chapter Six**

**The Man in the Suit**

The group was nothing less than a wave of relief after two hours of seemingly aimless walking resulted in the discovery of an old, sturdy, perfect house. Dean nearly jumped for joy when he found sulfur lining the edges of the stone path up to the front door.

"What is that?" The Doctor asked as he sniffed the air.

"Sulfur." Dean replied with a smile. "Not very pretty, is it?"

The Time Lord shook his head and continued towards the door. "Come on. I need to find Amy."

Sherlock put a hand on his shoulder; stopping The Doctor in his tracks. "We will find her." He promised. "And everyone else. But for now we need to be cautious."

"Well you aren't trying too hard, are you?" A woman's voice hissed from behind them, causing Dean to swear loudly.

Sarah, who had only just appeared behind them, strode forward. "This must happen a lot, huh? You don't look shocked; just a little miffed." She put a skinny little finger on Dean's shoulder, and dragged it slowly across his chest as she circled the men. "How is it that three genius minds and a hot hunter all manage to walk straight into all of my traps?"

Castiel pulled his blade from his sleeve and Dean wrapped an arm harshly over Sarah's throat. "What make you think we weren't doing that on purpose? To lure you here?"

The demon nodded, twitching a finger for the angel to come closer. She leaned forward slightly. "You're not that smart." She whispered. Without further warning, black smoke shot out from Sarah's mouth; filling up the air between the men before curling away, and disappearing into the starry night sky.

As soon as the smoke had vanished, Sherlock let out a growl of frustration. "She's gone for good, isn't she?"

"No, not for good." Dean replied as he kneeled down beside the body Sarah had been using.

"Is she alright?" The Doctor asked, leaning closer for a better look at the girl's pasty face. "What happened to her?"

"She was possessed by a demon." The hunter responded gruffly. "Usually that's bad enough, but Sarah was a lot stronger than most demons, if Cas is right." He held two fingers against the girl's throat for a few seconds before sighing and standing up. "She's dead."

There was a long pause before any of them spoke again- brought on by the clearing of Sherlock's throat. "Wh-Whether or not the Demon's left, that building is still important." He pointed at the old house. "It's worth examining closer, I believe."

"He's right." Castiel confirmed, and began to stride forward as the others followed behind. He pushed the door open slowly, glancing around cautiously. Pushing his way inside- past the rotting old door- Cas dropped back, allowing Dean to lead instead.

The hunter smirked at the angel before pressing on. He only made it a few more feet into the house before a door slammed upstairs. "Well," He said with a sigh "I guess we know where to look next."

"It could be a trap or something." The Doctor pointed out- to which the others nodded. "We need to be careful."

"Thanks for the heads-up, Sherlock." Dean muttered sarcastically before realizing what he'd just said. "Uh, never mind. But we need to check it out- trap or no trap." Without another word, the hunter began to ascend the squeaking, rotting staircase.

As they climbed, they began to notice a change in the air of the old building. The heavy, slightly toxic-feeling air of the floor below was replaced with the crisp scent of many different air-fresheners.

The Doctor tilted his head as he sniffed at the air. "That . . . That smells familiar." He muttered, but quickly dismissed it. "Nah . . . It can't be . . ."

"You keep saying that." Sherlock noted. "Who or what can't it be?"

The Time Lord only shook his head slowly, eyes fixed on the strangely colorful wallpaper that surrounded them.

"There, up ahead." Dean stopped walking and motioned towards a door at the end of the hall. "You guys think we'll find something in there?" Without really waiting for an answer, he began to move closer.

"Wait!" The Doctor called, stopping the others in their tracks. He pulled out his sonic, walking in front of Dean and scanning the area around them. "The power levels around here are of the charts. Nearly nuclear. It's not safe for either of you two to go any further." He pointed a finger at Dean and Sherlock.

Castiel shifted a bit. "He's actually right." He said slowly. "A human can't withstand this kind of power."

"My only question," The Doctor fretted "Is this: Why aren't you two effected by it? We're standing right in the middle of-. . . Oh . . . Oh!" He backed up against a wall, a hand covering his mouth. "No one breath, no one speak, no one move! This whole thing was a trap!"

The others almost instantly covered their mouths, and they looked around nervously- ready to attack at any time.

Slowly, though, The Doctor moved his hand away. "Oh, I get it." He said as he breathed in the sweet-smelling air. "It's a warning. Whoever's up here wants us to keep moving towards them. If we do something that they don't like, the flood us with enough raw power to melt us like ice on a hot day."

"Oh, that's clever." Sherlock said appreciatively. "That's really clever."

"Isn't it, though?" The Time Lord agreed with a grin.

Dean sighed. "You know, this really isn't the time to geek out about this." He shifted uncomfortably as he lowered his gun.

The angel next to him nodded. "We need to keep moving."

The Doctor hesitated. "Does the person we're looking for want us to keep moving?" He asked nervously.

"He wouldn't have let us this far unless he wanted to see us." Dean said.

Sherlock shrugged. "Or maybe he wanted to kill us."

Deciding not to respond to that, Dean started to walk once more down the long hall to the door. Before he could even think of pulling it open, The Doctor was in front of him, his sonic screwdriver whirring away.

"Safe- ish." He muttered before pulling the door open quickly.

The group filed into a large, open, and mostly empty white room. The only furniture in the room was a large desk sparsely littered with papers, and two rolling-base chairs. A large window that covered up a significant chunk of the wall let light seep into the room, making the white walls shine. And in the dead center of the room was a tall, thin man with dark eyes, and a darker smirk.

"Well, hello, boys." He said in a sing-song voice, spreading his arms wide. "Welcome! Welcome!"

Sherlock's eyes went wide. "You . . . How can you be alive?" He asked quietly; dangerously.

The man grinned at him. "I could be asking you the same question, couldn't I?" He asked, stepping a bit closer. "Jumping off a building to save the only friends you've ever had, and coming back three years later? Wonder how your pet reacted to that."

Castiel narrowed his eyes, and turned towards the detective. "Who is that? How do you know him?"

"James Moriarty." Sherlock answered, eyes glued to the charismatic man. "The most dangerous man I've ever met, and the reason behind for something that should never have happened."

"I know you from somewhere." The Doctor worded carefully. "Why do I know you? Who are you really?"

Moriarty pretended to pout, crossing his arms. "Aww, Doctor, I'm really quite shocked you don't remember me." He walked slowly over to his desk. "I left you more than one message." He knocked four times on the solid wood slab repeatedly.

The Time Lord found himself stunned. "But . . . But you, I saw you! You were trapped in the last day of the Time War! You can't be here!"

"And where else would I be, Doctor?" The mastermind snarled. "Sitting around, waiting to die with the rest of Gallifrey? I would never have let that happen, and deep down you know it too."

"Wait, how do you both know this guy?" Dean demanded. "Who is he?"

"A man I thought was dead." Sherlock and The Doctor cast each other odd looks as the words spilled out of both of their mouths simultaneously.

The Time Lord shook his head and began to speak again. "He can't be alive. He was trapped in a time lock! You can just break out of something like that!"

"Well, now, that's not quite true, is it?" The man smiled in a sickly sweet way- sleepy brown eyes narrowing. "I got out."

Dean growled in frustration. "Right, can we just get to the point?" He retrained his gun on the man in front of him. "Who are you?"

"I'm The Master." The man in the suit grinned at him comically.

"Master of what?" Castiel shot back, narrowing his eyes.

The Master turned and stared at the angel in disgust. "Just 'The Master'" He replied. "It's my name. And by the look of you, I'd say your name is something like, what? . . . Stevie?"

"I'm Castiel. An angel of the Lord."

The Master smiled crookedly. "And I'm supposed to be impressed?"

"Calm down, girls, you're both pretty." Dean grunted, eyes hitting the ceiling.

"Hah!" The Master grinned at him, eyes widening as he took a small step towards his desk. "I like you, Dean Winchester. You've got the nerve to pretend you're funny in front of someone like me." He tilted his head slightly. "Do you even know how stupid you are?"

The hunter scowled. "I think that's enough, now." He walked forward towards The Master, and held his gun steadily. "Tell us where you and your demon are keeping the rest of us."

The Master grinned. "If you wanted to know that, then you should have followed Sarah." Shoving him aside, the Time Lord raced across the room and out through the open door.

Cursing, Dean gave chase- followed closely by the other members of his party. They piled down the stairs as quickly as they could; following The Master's deranged giggling out through the front door of the old building, and into the woods. But they couldn't follow him too far. Once in the woods, the man seemed to vanish into thin air.

"Son of a bitch." Dean muttered, rubbing a hand through his hair as the others tried to locate the source of the resonating laughter- growing quieter and quieter as the owner moved further away.


End file.
